


Setting the Record Straight

by staticfiction



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Contemporary Romance AU, Day6 as guys who come from old old money, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M because there will be sexy times in the plural later on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-08-17 02:19:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16507487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staticfiction/pseuds/staticfiction
Summary: Astrid learned the truth at seventeen when her dreams of a magical summer spent with the rich and famous was crushed by the old, old-money, arrogant Park Sungjin—the boy she loved to hate and the boy who dismissed and ignored her right back.Now Astrid is twenty-six, overworked and underloved. One night inspired by too much vodka has her pouring out all her heartbreak into a novel. An open letter to every young girl who’s been told that love is only meant for the clear-skinned and the lithe-limbed—an instant bestseller.Finally, it seems Sungjin has noticed her. She’s slandered his name, and now he’s about to set the record straight.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mydaydream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydaydream/gifts).



> Because, apparently, I do not understand the concept of self-control and self-regulation. Inspired by @mydaysdream's twt thread of Day6 as guys who come from old, old money. Standard disclaimers apply. It's a fic, let's not take ourselves too seriously. Also, by contemporary romance au, I mean in-your-face genre romance. It's going to be awesome.

They were all laughing at her. These rich kids in their fancy clothes, holding on to fancy beer and hard liquor and partying at some fancy exclusive resort in some exclusive island. It was supposed to be a magical summer. She was supposed to be Cinderella, the poor girl who finds her prince and with it a home in a castle. In some ways, she almost had it all. Now they were all laughing at her.

She could almost hear their thoughts: she’s not even supposed to be here. And in so many ways, she was not. For one, she was not rich. Old money rich. Old, old money rich. The kind of rich that owned land before anyone else understood what owning land meant and nowthey own not just land but airspace as well. The kind of old rich that said things like, we’re not really rich, we’re comfortable. The kind who said, ah well city life is hard, perhaps buy an island?

No, she was not that. She wasn’t even the regular sort of rich. She just happened to be the daughter of someone who worked for someone old money rich. A someone who had too much money and too much time and no husband or children of her own to dote on. Thus, her.

Her, in a party that someone insisted she go to. _Because it will be fun_ , she was told. _It’s a birthday party and don’t you just love birthday parties?_ It didn’t matter. These were the kids she hung out with anyway. If inadvertently. If you squint, she could even call them friends. Some, more than others. Surely, there was the one whom she cherished with all her heart.

But also there is him. Two hims. One, the boy she’d been pining for all summer and, the other, the boy who had showed her just how cruel boys could be.


	2. Chapter 2

One would think that at the age of twenty-six Astrid Lee would know better than to place her expectations in the hands of cold and unfeeling men. She promised herself, after all, no more of this silly pining and no more of this inane idea that her happiness was directly proportional to the rate at which she was accelerating toward a relationship.

Unfortunately, cold and unfeeling men did not return the sentiment and found it necessary to wreak havoc on the peace and serenity she had worked too hard to accomplish in her sad, miserable life. To be fair, while she was accelerating toward said man, it was more a matter of desperation than it was anything else. Life and death, it felt more like.

He’d left her no choice.

The gentleman in black turned down the corridor, and she followed. Stealthily, of course. It would not do to alarm the entire five-star hotel with five-star level security to her intentions, innocuous they may have been.

She heard the subtle click of the doors closing somewhere down the corridor and to the right—the staff entrance to the closed-off ballroom at the other side, if memory served her right. She paused by the corner, hesitation paralysing her in place.

When it came right down to it, he provoked her. To corner him like this, knowing this was where he took his solitary breaks, was an act of self-defence on her part. If anything, at the very worst, she was merely being impertinent. Petty, even.

Also, it was entirely coincidental.

It wasn’t as if she stalked him here. No. She just happened to have a speaking engagement in one of the many, many function halls of this establishment. The fact that he owned the place? Well, just because he was in the business of owning things didn’t necessarily mean he would be here in a place that he owned. So when she unexpectedly saw him, and free of his usual bodyguards and assistants, Astrid did what any desperate woman would do.

She followed him into a darkened room.

Park Sungjin, heir-apparent to all this old, old money, looked up at her as soon as she opened the door. He was alone, standing next to the bay window.

And he was still as perfect as she remembered him to be.

Handsome, of course. Sungjin has always been handsome in that understated way, at least one might be inclined to say so at first glance. But then you notice the high cheekbones, the strong jaw, and a nose so straight no benevolent being brought that into this mortal life. After that, there’s no turning back. But it wasn’t just that which made him perfect. Everything else about him declared it so. His posture, his disposition, the close shave of his buzz cut on his perfectly shaped head. The quiet confidence in which he commanded the air around him, filling the room.

But he _wasn’t_ perfect. Not really. Everyone has flaws. And all his flaws were hidden deep inside, secrets he was too good at keeping behind that mask he plays so well. Secrets his money has paid to be kept secrets. Astrid has had her curiosity sated once before. She wasn’t going to be swept away just because the once gangly Sungjin grew up hot.

She was nobody’s fool.

“Just for the record,” she said, closing the door behind her. “It’s not about you.”

“What’s not about me?” His rich, raspy voice glided over her like summer rain. Even to this day, he refused to get rid of that old Busan burr.

“The book,” she said, cautiously stepping forward. “Also in general. Not everything is about you. Even if you are _the_ Park Sungjin _._ Look, I know that in _this_ life—“ she gestured around them— “everything actually is about you, but in the real world— _out there_ —not everything is about you. I know that’s difficult for you to process.”

He glanced at his phone. Put it back in his pocket. Behind him, the moonlight that spilled through the windows offered her a better look at him. His jacket and tie were gone, leaving him in a black dress shirt, the top buttons undone, and his sleeves pushed halfway up his elbows.

Belatedly, she asked, “You do know who I am, right? You remember me.”

Some part of her wanted to run back out into the hall and bash her head in. Though it was highly probable that he knew her by fame—or infamy as some would put it—he might not have remembered her face. Sungjin wasn’t the only one who did some growing up. Like she’d hoped, Astrid grew into her skin. She’d lost _some_ of her freckles, filled up spaces that had been sharp, and her skin finally cleared of teenage hormones.

But how insulting would that be, him not remembering her after what he did. Then again, he never paid her any notice before that. It was highly probable he wouldn’t recognize her now.

 _Jerk_.

After a pause, he inclined his head. “Astrid, nice to see you again. How long has it been? Eight? Nine years?”

She almost laughed. It was most definitely _not nice_ to see each other again, but of course Sungjin was too well-bred to directly insult her to her face. Appalled, he was probably more like. If only he were more truthful.

“Nine years,” she answered tartly. “More or less.”

Nine years, and here they spoke in a manner that in no way indicated they’d spent summers together in one of his or his friends’ estates. Astrid may have been the tag-along kid, but her presence couldn’t have been so forgettable. He’d held her hand once, long ago. One summer night, he had reached for her secretly in the dark and twined his fingers with hers. Silly girl, she chastised, no use holding on to that.

“I’d ask you to sit, but…” he gestured vaguely at the room. White sheets were draped over the tables and chairs stacked neatly at the centre of the room. Various other items scattered between them. A mobile bar. Crates of things. More tables. Mismatched chairs.

“Always so polite,” she muttered. “So refined, with your manners.”

He heard her. His eyes twinkled in that amused way they did.

 _Who gave you eyes like that?_ she bitterly mused in her head. “Thank you, but no. I’m imposing as it is.”

“Quite.” He began folding his sleeve up his elbow.

Astrid smoothed her palms down the length of her charcoal pencil skirt to distract herself from the corded muscles of his forearms. Perhaps she just imagined the veins on his wrist and his hands. She couldn’t find it in her memories if Sungjin’s hands had always looked so…rough.

She cleared her throat. “Like I said, it’s not about you. I came to tell you that.”

“You already said that.” He finished one sleeve then moved on to the other. “Not everything is about me. What’s not about me, specifically?”

She grit her teeth. “The book. It’s not about you.”

His cool unhurried gaze swept her from head to toe, then back up again. “Book?”

“The book I wrote.” One inspired by too many lonely nights, a little too much vodka and not enough love. She purged her feelings, then she posted it online. Update after update, the words came pouring out. Two years and a publishing contract later, here she was now. Bestselling author of a literary equivalent of vindication to all the young girls who held on to unrequited love and were made to believe that ugly duckling girls like them could never be allowed to dream and hope. “You may have heard of it.”

She’d hoped to all the gods, goddesses, and all other omnipotent beings out there that he wouldn’t. But this was not a world where Astrid got what she wanted. For a while she’d lived the dream. Reality caught up with her too soon.

Sungjin set his dark eyes on her, and she wondered if he’d learn to control his eyebrows or if he truly felt nothing as they spoke. His voice had a frosty edge. “Have I?”

“You’re suing me for libel.” The notice had arrived to her email, sent from his assistant. Or was it his publicist? Lawyer? Whoever it was that made sure his reputation was pristine. For these people, reputations were everything. She was _kindly requested_ to respond in a timely manner, but her heart had stopped and she’d spiralled into a panic attack. Until she saw him earlier tonight, she had no idea what to do about it. She still didn’t, if she were being honest.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Ah. That book.”

“Indeed.” How hard she tried not to cringe.

“I gave you notice of intention to sue.”

All the while, she couldn’t ignore him staring at her. “I can’t imagine what for.”

“You wrote false statements that are defamatory to my good reputation.” He didn’t smile. Or frown.

She swallowed. “I just told you. It isn’t about you. Not everything is about you.”

He made an amused sound. “The books is called Park Sungjin Missed Out: Confessions of the Rich Adjacent.”

Astrid lifted her chin defiantly at him. “There are at least a forty-eight Park Sungjins within the radius of this metropolitan area alone.”

“That’s a suspiciously specific statistic you have on you.”

Because she checked. It was too late to change the name without making it suspect. Her editors—and her readers—would only ask her increasingly invasive questions and what was she supposed to say? That everything she wrote was all based on a true story? More or less, a true story. She may have embellished a bit. Just a smidge.

She laughed nervously. Waved a hand casually in the air. “You know me, always with these random factoids in my head. So we have an agreement?”

“I haven’t agreed to anything,” he said, leaning back into the ledge, keeping one boot firmly planted on the floor as he crossed one ankle over the other. When he leaned back the front of his shirt gaped just the slightest, revealing a black shirt underneath.

She stole a sidelong glance at him, imagining how he would look lounging on a daybed wearing his most comfortable clothes, feet propped up, head tucked under his arm, properly disheveled after she—

Astrid shook the thought away. He broke her heart, damn him. She shouldn’t be _feeling_ things for him anymore. Not after she’d let go of all her foolish fantasies.

Squaring her shoulder, she said, “You know those pages before Chapter One? There’s a disclaimer page. It says this book is a work of fiction. Names, persons, and places are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not, in any way at all, to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental. This book is fictional. Any alleged resemblance is entirely coincidental.”

There it was. A calculated raise of his brow. “Is it, though?”

“Of course, it is. Entirely. Really, the serious literary folk have called it things like absurd, and shamelessly self-indulgent, and nothing but wish-fulfilment. It’s all fluff, you know. I can’t seem to see why you would be so interested in my book.”

She also promised herself she would never minimize her own accomplishments. Her book wasn’t silly. Reviews had come in saying behind the appropriately angry pink cover, was empowerment and the kind of strong female characters needed in this world. Her book, though she hadn’t meant to, meant something to women other than her. To many like her, it became a beacon of hope and happiness. But if she could convince Sungjin that, in the grand scheme of things, she was wholly unimportant, then maybe he’d let her go.

He could destroy her. It would be so simple fo him to do so. A snap of his fingers is all it would take. Hadn’t he already done so once before?

“Let’s see,” he hummed. Even that sounded dark and dangerous from him. “It does say Park Sungjin missed out. What exactly did Park Sungjin miss out on?”

“It’s really not about you,” she said again, desperation lacing her voice. “Honestly, until your notice, I’ve forgotten all about you. It was just a name I thought of, you know. Just some random name. No need to be testy.”

He stretched his arms on the ledge and rested his weight on them. “Well, considering the name Park Sungjin is now dragged all over social media as synonymous with vain, selfish, spoiled, and self-important, someone like me would be concerned. I have a public image.”

One that was artfully and creatively curated to make him appear as some hermit heir, mysterious but benevolent, aloof and misunderstood. The gentleman of their little group of five, the down-to-earth one, the kind one. Lies, all of them.

“Surely, your reputation precedes my book. You are way above all this.” Always so much better than everyone else. “I can’t imagine how something I wrote could damage your standing in society. You’ve always been in the business of owning things. Your family history has things like, oh for good service to the King, here have an island and a mountain and some fields. You’re untouchable.”

His head made a pensive tilt.

“ _Has_ your name suffered?” Because good. He deserved it. But also bad. Because she was in so much trouble now.

“In the business of owning things, not so much,” he said, “it’s the other things. Personal things.”

Astrid’s eyes went to the ceiling. Well, good on whoever’s changed their mind about dating him. Marrying him? Was Sungjin the type to marry? He would be. Where else was his fortune going to go? That’s how the rich operated. On heirs. Heirs and spares.

“If this hotel and what other estates you’ve acquired through the years doesn’t work on them, just flash them that watch collection of yours, that should be enough to woo any woman. Man. Whatever your preference.”

He scoffed.

“Your marital plans are not my problem.”

“Somehow they’ve become a problem. One caused by you. Apparently, you’ve convinced women that wealth isn’t enough. You’ve planted ideas in their heads.”

“You mean basic human decency?” She hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but it was too late. “You mean how dare a woman asked to be wooed? To have her thinking she deserves more?” She laughed. “As if you care about that. As if you care about anything.”

“I care that you’ve made my name another word for jackass.”

You deserve it, she wanted to say. She wanted to yell at him. She wanted him to come to his knees and ask for forgiveness. And then after that, he would confess that he loved her. That he’d loved her all this time. But Astrid threw away the fantasies when she wrote those words on the page and set them loose on the world.

“Again,” she said, “It’s not about you—“

There it was, a crack on the surface. His eyes flashed. “Of course it’s about me. This is revenge for what happened that summer. That was years ago, Astrid. We were children. Did you think I wouldn’t come to know about this? About what you did? It’s one thing you’ve dragged my name through the dirt, but to exact your revenge like this? On all of us?”

Astrid refused to feel guilty. She was the true aggrieved party here. She was nobody and Sungjin had all the power. That imbalance alone justified her actions. There was so much more at risk for her than it would ever be for him. He never had to face the consequences of his actions. How could Sungjin not see that? At the very least, she deserved this much gloating. If only she survived long enough to enjoy it.

“Then I guess we have nothing more to talk about. I’ve stated my piece. The book is not about you.” Astrid turned on her heel and walked out the door.

Only to rush back in, shutting the heavy panel behind her and turning the heavy lock. She could still see the lights flashing in her eyes, the press of people, and the fuzz of microphones and cameras being shoved into her face.

“Back so soon?” he drawled, still as she left him.

Her heart was pounding and she spoke too fast, gasping for air. “Media. Or some stalker fan. Fans. Lots of them. How’d they even know you’d be here?”

Sungjin pushed himself away from the ledge, his demeanour transformed in an instant.He glanced at the door, then at her. “You’re so sure it’s me they’re following.”

Crossing the floor, she met him halfway. “It’s always you and your lot they follow around.”

“You’re thinking about Wonpil. Or Brian.”

That brought a smile to her face, though she wiped it away still unable to allow the fond memories to take over the hurt. Swallowing her pride for one moment’s exception, she said, “I’m down one exit.”

“Lucky for you there’s another one.”

She looked up at him, hopeful. Angry at herself, but hopeful.

“But on one condition.” He leaned forward, confronting her. Caging her with the simple power of his presence. Holding her escape hostage.

And now electricity made its way down her spine, bringing her every nerve to awareness.

“Answer my question: What exactly did I miss out on?”


	3. Chapter 3

“Astrid,” Sungjin prompted. “I’m waiting.”

Taking one more step closer into her breathing space, he peered into her eyes but she kept them downcast.

 _You’re not going anywhere, Astrid_. _I have you now_.

Then she raised her eyes at him. Under the sunlight, her eyes were a light brown, almost amber. But like this, when she’s angry, her eyes were dark with flecks of errant gold. “Waiting for what, exactly?”

“Answer the question.”

“What was the question?”

He refused to let her wear down his patience. “Your book. You audaciously alleged that I missed out. What exactly did I miss out on?”

She didn’t answer, which irritated him.

But then, she’d always irritated him; even when they were kids and even when she disappeared from their lives. More irritating by far was that her silence was forcing his mind to fill in the blanks himself.

His first mistake was looking at her. Those fiery eyes. That smart mouth. That tempting grown-up body.

In retrospect, he remembered her awkward and all limbs like a foal who hadn’t quite figured out how to make use of her extremities. To a teenage boy, it was enough to send him squirming in his bed at night. And squirm he did. He’d always attributed those memories to the often misplaced and misguided horniness of youth. But she’d always been pretty in his eyes. Beautiful in a way he wasn’t supposed to have.

Nine years was an awfully long time, and Sungjin wasn’t that boy anymore. He changed, inevitably as one was wont to do when thrust into adulthood. He aged and changed, moulded and shaped into what he was required to be. Astrid too, naturally. She aged and changed just as he did.

His gaze wandered downward. She was even more beautiful now than she ever was in his memories because now she was standing in front of him. The dusting of freckles on her face had faded, but only just so. He’d always wondered about those, such a rare thing to see in these parts. Wondered where else he would find them on her body. Even lower still, her clothes clung to her body in a way that made him want to reach out and touch her. To see how well she would fit in his hands. See how easily that flimsy top would rip between his fingers.

He shook the fantasy away. The thought he could save for later, for someone else, anyone else, some abstraction that could take the place of a real woman, but not now while it involved Astrid Lee. Never Astrid.

He didn’t want to want her. Not after she left.

Not after what she’d written.

“Oh, the book.” Her tongue nervously licked her bottom lip, made her mouth look lush and hot. “How many times do I have to say it? It’s not about you. What part of _not about you_ do you not understand?”

He raised his eyes upwards and scoffed incredulously into the dark air. The nerve of this woman to keep denying the truth. The audacity to claim that she’d forgotten about him. To say his name was nothing more than a random thought she plucked out of the wind. Sungjin was nearly impressed by it all.

“I understand completely,” he said, nodding along. “Of course. Of course, I see it now.”

She exhaled. “Good. Good. Now you get it. Gentle reminder that we’re currently trapped here and need to make a swift and efficient escape.”

“How many Park Sungjins did you say where within this radius?”

He took a step forward. She took a step back.

Was she intimidated by him? Good.

“F-forty-eight.”

“Right. A Park Sungjin whose family is in the business of owning things, with several estates in a Port City, an island resort a little off-coast, a ghost of your past, a boy from your summers. All of this, merely coincidence? Not at all inspired by me? No, that would be too much of a stretch, wouldn’t it?”

On the other side of the door, he heard the excited buzz of whatever media team and organisational representatives had found them. The noise seemed to grow, and the door rattled in their attempts to corner them into a story they can spin according to what they think would sell best.

She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “Standard disclaimers apply. You can be as stubborn as you like, but my answer will not change.”

Sungjin didn’t work himself sleepless and into a constant state of vigilance to have his name slandered and be featured on the front page of some entertainment news site. She didn’t care about this, of course. Astrid didn’t care about him. The message was loud and clear the moment she published an entire novel insulting him and his character.

The rattling grew louder, and Astrid glanced worriedly at the door. “If you won’t tell me where the secret exit is, I’ll go find it myself.”

She brushed past him, leaving a scent of flowers in her wake. Despite the increasing risk of being found inside a locked room with her, Sungjin hung back as though he wasn’t in a hurry to leave. Astrid had walked straight up to the ballroom entrance and put her hands on the door latch. With a determined push, she tugged at the handles. He could have told her it was locked from the other side, but this was much more fun.

“It’s locked,” he said.

She took a step back to scowl at him through the darkness. “I know that now. You do have a plan, don’t you? You’re not about to get caught in here. Not you.”

Though she didn’t say it, he heard the words that should have come after her statement. True, he wasn’t about to get caught in here _with her_. They both understood how easily the scenario could be misconstrued if they were to be discovered like this. This woman, she was one scandal after another for him.

All he wanted was a brief moment of respite before another week of being stressed out about work and further additional meetings. The tabloids conjectured his life as the closest to royalty one could get, but they would sorely be disappointed at the truth of it all. One of the country’s most eligible bachelors was hiding out not for a tryst. He was here to throw a temper tantrum.

Until Astrid.

Banging accompanied the shaking of the doors, and now was as good a time as ever to make an orderly exit. “Are you done with that door?” he asked. “Do you want to try the windows now?

“Can’t you just call your security team to come get you?”

“If they’re half as good as what I’m paying them to be, they should already be out there.”

“Okay. Then…I guess I’ll hide out here until it’s all over.”

“Some one or other will come in here to check, you know. You leave with me or you temporarily lose your sense of sight with all the cameras flashing in your face. Unless you’d rather face them. Personally, I’d rather you not.”

She made a disgruntled sound. “Why’d you go hide out here anyway.”

“How’d _you_ even know I’d be in here.”

“I didn’t,” she shot back. But he knew that she knew he knew. This wasn’t the first time she’d caught him in here. But the last time was nearly a decade ago. “I was walking back to my room, from that thing I was invited to, when I saw you.”

“Then you accosted me.”

“I did not accost you!”

He held back a smile, and then held back a wince at the extra loud thud at the door. “Can you run in that?”

Astrid looked down at her skirt and her black heels. “If I have to.” She narrowed her gaze at him. “Why?”

“Because we have to go. Now.” He held out his hand, and she stared at it like he’d sprouted a bear paw. “Astrid, this pains me as much as it does you. Take my hand and stay close to me if you want to get out of here safely.”

She bristled, but relented when the door latches jiggled restlessly. Sungjin swept her into his arms, ignoring the surprised sound of protest from her lips. Pressed chest to chest, he said to her, “You’ll forgive me for this one, at least.”

Then the room and the hallway was a blur.

One moment, Sungjin was staring at the turning door latches, and the next Astrid was in his arms—one hand around her shoulders, the other protectively shielding her head and her face from the mass of reporters crowding the narrow hallway. Acting on instinct, he shouldered his way around, holding Astrid tightly against him. He could feel her panicked heartbeat, her heavy breaths, and her struggle to keep up pace. Just outside the hallway, he met with this security detail who immediately circled around him. From there, he was escorted to a private elevator down to the basement parking level. He didn’t let her go until they were at his vintage Mercedes-Benz.

Drawing a deep sudden breath, he released her.

Astrid didn’t look so sure of herself now, not quite certain where to look or what to say. Her eyes darted around them, at their solitude once again. She pressed her hands to her face, pushed her hair back behind her ears, and ran her hands down the front of her blouse and her skirt. A few errant strands still managed to escape her low ponytail, and she huffed at them.A few buttons on her shirt had come undone, and he chose not to dwell too much on that detail. But she was still in one piece. Mostly.

She laughed nervously. “I think a lost a shoe.”

Sungjin looked at her feet. And just as she said, she stood there, one foot bare on the concrete. “I’ll buy you a new pair.”

“Don’t go around saying things like that,” she chastised, but it was light. Teasing, almost. “You don’t just go around buying women shoes.”

He didn’t. He didn’t know why he even made that offer. He pulled his car keys out of his pocket and opened the door. “Get in.”

“What?”

“Unless you want to stay here?” He gave her another once over before slipping into the driver’s seat.

She looked like a mess. Astrid knew it, too. With yet another resigned sigh, she walked to the passenger side door and slid into the seat next to him. “What, no chauffeur?”

After sending word to his assistant, he started the engine. “Who’s spoiled now?”

Astrid turned away from him as she buckled herself in, then she faced the window but he could still see the reflection of her small smile. “You have a plan, don’t you? And by plan I don't mean you’re not going to kidnap me, murder me, and then dispose of my body. Just incinerate my corpse with no evidence left behind. Are you?”

Sungjin pulled out of the parking space. “Don’t give me ideas.” Once they were out into the street, he said, “It’s too risky to take you home, unless you don’t mind waking up to reporters outside your building.”

“You’re so sure they would be.”

“I won’t put it past them at this point. You’re not exactly a nobody.”

Now, more than ever, were their names linked to each other. The first time, it was in hushed whispers and stories told with hands over mouths at parties. The second time was when some fan decided he was the closest real life figure one could attach to her book. Third time’s a charm, they said. There was no turning back now.

She picked at her fingernails. Not everything about her had changed, so it seemed. “No, you’re right. Just tonight, then. Whatever you think is best. And then we can separate ways and we don’t have to see each other or speak with each other ever again.”

“Understood,” he replied tersely.

For thirty minutes, Sungjin drove in silence. His hands felt unnaturally warm, as if Astrid had burned herself into a brand on his palms. The memory came unbidden, of that night at the beach when he reached out to hold her hand the first time. He was fourteen, Astrid was fifteen. At the time, one year felt like a lifetime’s difference between them. And Astrid, her life was so different from his, Sungjin felt the gap more acutely.

“Where are we going?” she asked, when he exited out of the city limits.

His grip on wheel tightened. “The Big House. It’s safer there.”

She nodded in understanding. “I heard about your grandfather,” she said softly. “I’m sorry. I—I wanted to…but I couldn’t. I—I’m so sorry for your loss, Sungjin.”

He buried his grandfather last year. It was a stuffy event, and he remembered none of it. What he did remember was a life worth celebrating. Sungjin grew up with his grandfather. It was from him Sungjin learned everything he needed to know about life. About business. About cars. ”He liked you, you know.”

His grandfather was always talking about Astrid, always asking where she was, why she wasn’t invited, why the hell couldn’t they just sponsor her to go to the same school as Sungjin and the others. Once, his grandfather paid for her to go to Paris with their little group. Astrid was one of them too. In her own way.

“Not enough to let me win,” she replied, relaxing into the leather seat. “I promised him I’d beat him at least once.”

At chess. Sungjin never had the patience to learn. He was a restless kid and couldn’t stand sitting in front a board for hours at a time, strategising move after move, ten moves in advance. Astrid, though, she was brilliant. Often, he’d just watch her from the corner of his eye. She was the only one he’d competed with for his grandfather’s attention.

“You almost always did,” he said, glancing at her. “He always said you’d beat him soon enough. He was always talking about how smart you were.” _Are_. No doubt, she still was. Until the end, Sungjin wasn’t the only one who wondered about her. His grandfather never forgot about her either.

But to her, Sungjin was easy to dismiss. To forget. He would always just be a spoiled brat. A rich kid failure. In her eyes, he was that cliché. It was unfair.

As they neared his ancestral home, agitation shot through him. He hadn’t been here in almost a year. Not since his grandfather’s passing. He oversaw the manor’s maintenance, but always from afar. He’d never visited. Even still, even at this hour—closing upon midnight—the wide gates opened for him and he drove down the winding road to the estate.

He parked right in front of the main entrance. “I’ll have someone bring your stuff over tomorrow.”

“How very considerate of you,” she said, and he wasn’t sure if she meant to be mocking or if she was genuinely surprised.

His old nanny, Mrs. Kim, greeted them by the door, covered up in a floral dressing gown. Behind her was the family butler, Mr. Jeong. Both of them stayed even after he offered to let them go with full compensation. Just as well they stayed, they lived in this house while he was away. Made it a home, somehow. If that was at all possible. Years he’d hoped, but nothing could turn this house into a home.

“You remember Astrid,” he said, tossing his head behind him. Astrid walked up the foyer barefoot, her other shoe cradled in her hands. Recognition lit in her eyes. Nothing about the house needed to change much, if at all.

“Of course,” his nanny said, offering her a maternal smile. “Miss Astrid, it’s so nice to see you again after all these years.” Then to him, sternly, “Really this boy, at this hour? With no notice at all?”

Sungjin walked past her, feeling seventeen again. “I’ll be in my room. You know what to do.”

“Not much has changed,” he heard Astrid say. “Still so temperamental.”

“You know the young master,” Mr. Jeong replied, “He’s very bad at feelings.”

He ignored that jab and jogged up the grand staircase up the second floor, and straight down the hall to the master bedroom. Without flicking on the lights, he crossed the room. Tossing his phone and billfold onto the side table, he flopped belly down into his mattress and closed his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

Sungjin’s executive assistant, head of security, and legal representative all walked into the breakfast bar but, sadly, it wasn’t the beginning of an awkward joke. It was worse. They stood around the kitchen island, tablets in hand dictating schedules and damage control contingencies while Sungjin stood by the daybed, leaning against a post looking like he was advertising those dark jeans and that forest green pullover.

Astrid expected this. She woke up early to mentally prepare herself for this early morning meeting. She woke up surprised she fell asleep at all. But that she could attribute to the exhaustion of the day before—less from the whole day of meeting with publishers and book and lifestyle/women’s magazine people, and more from the two hours or so she’d spent with Sungjin. Even now being around him was draining.

Now she sat there, staring at her fluffy milk pancakes and her tropical fruit, unable to enjoy her breakfast. She was still in the clothes she was wearing last night, her face was bare, and her feet were in house slippers. She didn’t even have her phone with her because she left it in her hotel room. Meanwhile, she was surrounded by expensive custom-tailored suits.

Hwang Chansung, head of security, was to her right explaining the subtle art of surveillance to keep tabs on her and Sungjin to ascertain they weren’t being followed by anyone with untoward intentions. To her left was Lee Sunmi, Sungjin's executive assistant, scrolling through her tablet which Astrid assumed was an attempt to control every aspect of Sungin’s life. Across her and toward the left was Kim Minjun from legal who simply smiled enigmatically at her. Any second now, that other shoe will finally drop and her life would be over.

She’d expected this too, somehow.

“Someone’s going to pick up on this within the day, so it’s best to air out all your dirty laundry now. Any skeletons in your closet?” Minjun asked her, picking up a dessert fork and spearing it through a slice of ripe mango on the fruit platter. “Things you’re keeping secret? Married lovers? Secret babies?”

“I’m a producer for a lifestyle network,” Astrid replied, wishing she could just eat in front of people like a _normal_ person. Her stomach was rumbling. It wasn’t even that she was worried about her appearances—she just couldn’t enjoy the activity unless she was alone. Furthermore, food was more a means to survive than an experience. She was a busy woman. “Make of that what you will.”

“Not right now, you're not.” Minjun’s eyes narrowed at her, amused. “You’re on leave.”

For four more weeks, more or less. After frequent trips to the ER for panic attacks and unpleasant reactions to caffeine and alcohol, her doctor begged for her to be put on extended leave. To rest. Recover. Normalise her body functions. Naturally, the first thing she did was say yes to her publisher’s aggressive marketing plans and a book tour.

On principle, Astrid refused to be the one who brought up what happened that summer a decade ago. “I am. And no. I don’t have anything like what you’re asking. No red flags. Besides, I’m sure you’ve already looked into my past and found or not found whatever you’re looking for.”

Minjun nodded and happily dug into the platter of fruit and claiming it for himself. Astrid didn’t trust that he was happy with her answer. Though she didn’t have any sort of liabilities on her—she was nobody—she felt a line of guilt run through her spine. Would Sungjin know what they found? The medical reports, the pathetic attempts at dating, the…the emptiness of a life consumed by her job. Also that one other thing… _shit_.

Astrid cut a glance at Sungjin who just watched her ordeal with his arms crossed over his torso. Under the daylight, she noticed more details about him that she had missed in the dark. As if he wasn’t insufferable enough as it were, his ears were pierced, three rings down a line on the left and one more on the right. On his right eyebrow were two slits that lead her eyes to the two severe shaved lines cleanly disrupting the side of the hairline of his buzz cut. Worse yet, was the wire-frame glasses perched over his nose.

It was just utterly, completely, and totally not fair.

“There goes that first blind item,” Sunmi said, eyes focused on her tablet. “I can make it go away, but we can’t just keep this up. Waiting for this to go away will be a waste of opportunity. The consultant suggests we spin this story the way we want it. A way that benefits both your images.”

Astrid stifled a gulp. Her public image was complicated. Unconventional. She’d become the face of the awkward, the bookish, the painfully shy, and the heartsick though she was not all of those. But she _was_ a well-brought up young woman who just couldn’t seem to fit in with society and its flawed standards.

“And what would that be?” Sungjin asked.

“Simple,” Sunmi replied, “You need to appear together in public spaces. Amicably. As friends who’ve drifted apart and are now catching up after all these years. It helps you,” she turned to Astrid, “not look like a bitter, jilted, spinster, man-hater, which you are not. You are a figure of public sympathy.” Sunmi turned to Sungjin, “And it helps _you_ because you need to make more appearances in general. This mysterious hermit heir thing is running its course. You’re looking like the villain here, and you’re not that either. Furthermore, the public has been _speculating_ and this will give them something to think about.”

If Astrid were to appear with Sungjin, she could field the questions asking her if she _had_ written about him. Were they to appear that they were reacquainted _friends,_ it would save them both the trouble of going through this lawsuit Sungjin was threatening her with. She could’t even begin to comprehend how happy her publicist would be.

Sungjin raised his eyes and released a breath. “Schedule something.”

“Already did,” Sunmi said, glancing at her. “You have brunch this weekend at the Yacht Club. Astrid, I hope you enjoy lobster.”

They continued discussions for another twenty minutes: a rundown of the weekend schedules, logistics, and the general mien of the situation. It wasn’t as bad as Astrid thought it would be. Not nearly as bad as it could get. Not even as bad as they were making it out to be. These people were just extra careful like that. Paranoid, even. Then again, what did she know. She lived on the outside. Perched at the very edge.

“I can still go home, right?” Astrid asked when prompted for questions. “I don’t have to live…somewhere else.” Like with Sungjin. Because that would be a disaster.

“Unless you want to?” Sunmi replied, seemingly hearing her unasked question.

She shook her head. “No, my own apartment would be good. Thanks.” At least she had a doorman. That’s one level of security to keep unwanted people out.

“Is there anything else?” Sungjin cut in, his tone more dismissive than inquiring.

Sunmi stood up. “That would be all, sir. See you at office on Monday.”

Astrid watched the trio leave—got the feeling they were good friends outside work as well. She imagined their after-work conversations, tried not to laugh at what they’d say about their boss, or feel sorry for them because of their boss. After they had gone, she turned toward her food, still conscious of Sungjin’s eyes on her.

They were alone again. Suddenly shaken, she groped for understanding. This was happening now. Once again, she had been thrust into a world that had done nothing but highlight how much she never truly belonged. Her mother worked as the executive assistant to one of the high society’s most social butterfly, and she became the charity case. They’ve been exposed to the excesses of the rich and powerful, and her mother had always reminded her not to take anything from them. She’d learned a different kind of independence, especially more so that she grew up without a father.

But as much as Astrid valued her independence, growing up having to make her own decisions sometimes she just wanted someone to come sweeping into the room and make the decisions for her. Someone with whom she could allow herself to relax. Someone who had her best interests at heart, a steady male presence with both wisdom and command. All she wanted to hear were the words—

_It’s okay, Astrid. I’ll take care of everything._

“It’s okay, Astrid. I’ll take care of everything.” Sungjin pushed himself off the post and crossed the room toward her.

Right words, wrong man.

And the way he’d addressed her, the softness of his tone as he said her name, that degree of familiarity was only reserved for intimacy. They were most certainly not _that_.

She stared at the maple syrup soaking her pancakes. In her state, all she could say was, “You go to the office on Mondays?”

“Sometimes,” Sungjin said gruffly. He pulled off his glasses and sent them clattering on the counter. “I sent someone to get your belongings. They should be here soon. You’re free to leave when you’re ready.”

Just a little bit more, and she’d be free of him. No doubt he was as antsy to get rid of her as she was to remove herself from his presence. Left with no choice, she looked up at him. Judging by the weariness in his eyes, Sungjin didn’t get much sleep at all last night. Neither did he find it in him to make time to shave. He had the slightest shadow, faint but she could see it. If she ran her hand along his jaw, she would feel the roughness on her palms.

 _No, Astrid. Whatever you do, do_ not _think of your hands on him._

She tucked an uncooperative strand of loose hair behind her ear. “I know the situation is intolerable—“

He grunted in agreement.

“—but we should at least _attempt_ to look like we’re doing more than just tolerate each other.”

 _That’s right_ , she thought, _be the bigger person. You can do this, Astrid._

He didn’t answer.

“Or at least tolerate each other’s presence,” she said. The gall of this guy to act so offended at her offering a temporary truce. “Gentle reminder that it’s your advisers who planned contingencies that work toward our mutual advantage.”

“I’d thought you’d see it more as a transaction.”

“Your reputation for mine? My silence for your—” she shrugged “—marriage plans?”

“You forget, my notice to sue still stands.”

“I don’t think your advisers will like that. After all the work they’re putting into not making you the villain. The truth will be my defense and you know it.”

“A villain will have better chances in the market than what you’ve made of me. You think your truth is worth more than mine?”

Her truth was _the_ truth no matter what money Park Sungjin would throw down on the table alongside his. “I know it is.”

“You claim I missed out. By not chasing after you? Look at my life.” He spread his arms around. Astrid didn’t need to look around her. Nothing much had changed in this house, she found her way around just as easily as she had years ago. It was almost tragic. But opulence had a way of looking like a snapshot in time, and all this grandeur only brought back the conflicting emotions of her teenaged years. “I can have anything I could possibly want and more. Opportunity? Knowledge? I can have all that just as well. All this against a life of what? With you?”

Astrid stared at him. How dare he?

When she started writing her novel all she wanted was a way to release all the pain and hurt she carried within her. Seeing her words on the page made them real, that she hadn’t imagined any of it all along. She laid herself bare in those words. In the solitude of her room, she committed the words to the page and made something. Something that mattered to her. Something that mattered to someone other than her. Releasing the book out into the wild in itself was her greatest act of courage, even if at the beginning she hid behind a screen name. The words were her truth, and the truth was out there for the world to see. Allowing herself to be truthful had done her more good than she could have ever imagined. She came out with an alternate career, friendships, respect, and gratitude.

“It’s not only your life that’s in question here,” she said. “I’m part of this, too. You’re not the only one who has something to lose. You inherited all this, I _made_ a life for myself.”

“And with the life you made, you exacted revenge? You used me. You used _us_. You punish us with this pettiness. And for what? Child’s play?”

Astrid scoffed. “Who’s being petty? You’re the one with the lawsuit.”

“One that is justified. I intend to push through, unless…”

“Unless?”

Sungjin rounded the kitchen island and approached her from the side, stepped into her space. He leaned in slowly, one hand finding purchase on the backrest of her seat and the other leaning against the counter. Mint wafted into her senses, cool and calming, yet at the same time awakening. He showered, changed, but did not shave. “You give me answers.”

Astrid would not back down and turned to face him—he was closer than she initially gauged. Close enough their noses nearly brushed. Close enough to kiss. She raised her brow askance.

His voice became low and dark. “You never did answer my question.”

“I told you—“

He licked his lips. She lost her train of thought.

“I’m still waiting for an answer, Astrid. And I want you to prove it.”

“Prove what?”

He tilted his head and caught her gaze. “Provide your defense. Prove me wrong. Show me exactly what you meant when you said I missed out. I want you to rub it in my face. What exactly did I miss out on?”

_What the hell?_

Astrid couldn’t begin to piece together what exactly it was Park Sungjin was suggesting, but if he was suggesting what she thought he was suggesting, just how suggestible was she? “Don’t be an ass.”

He breathed out a laugh. “It’s all up to you. You set the rules here, so long as I get an acceptable answer. I won’t force anything. I just want to know what it is that makes me so dense to have missed out. What it is that, it seems, all other men in this city can’t see and have been missing out on because you, I believe, have been perennially single. I’m sure someone would have seen what I didn’t see and swept you off your feet.”

She turned her nose up at him—felt the electricity that ran in the moment’s space between them. “I’ve been busy. Too busy to make time for mediocre men.”

“Ah, there it is. Mediocre men. You like scaring mediocre men away? Do you enjoy seeing lesser men fail to meet your challenge?”

What did he mean by that? Astrid refused to give him the satisfaction of asking him. In any case, she _had_ been busy. Too busy her only breaks were her trips to the emergency room. And even then her hopes of landing herself a doctor were met with disappointment. Not that she met anyone she was interested enough in to date. At one point, she considered that perhaps she’d grown too cynical for her own good. But, no. Because here Park Sungjin was, lighting up her mind, being maddeningly interesting.

Enthralling.

This close, she could study him even better. He did look like he’d been roughened up a bit, though she couldn’t tell by what or how, just that the delicate boy from her childhood was gone. He looked strong. Solid. Weathered by experience.

He tapped the table impatiently. For sure his hands weren’t this veiny or corded when they were younger. A thought crossed her mind, a memory from last night: his hands had been calloused and rough even through the fabric of her clothes. How would they feel on her skin?

She shook the thought away.

 _My heart_ , Astrid wanted to say. _You missed out on my heart._

But she knew better than to allow Sungjin to reign over her better senses once more. She’d been infatuated with him growing up, and she struggled to keep her feelings to herself. It was a silly notion then, it was even worse now.

“Well?” he said, “I’m waiting.”

Astrid sat up straighter, thrust out her chest, and licked her lips. The room was becoming very warm. “Given that we’ll be forced to spend time together, assuming we don’t kill each other first, I guess you’re just going to have to find out. Try not to fall in love with me. It would be _so_ inconvenient.”


	5. Chapter 5

Brunch with Astrid wasn’t a date.

Hence, Brian Kang sitting across from Sungjin at their table at the Club. Any minute now, Astrid and the rest of the invited party would arrive but until then Sungjin had to suffer through Brian’s knowing gaze. Annoying prick.

“So,” Brian said, leaning back into the cushy backrest of his wicker chair and setting his elbows on the armrests. He clasped his hands together. “Astrid Lee is back in your life. How long has it been? Ten years?”

Sungjin held back a retort. He was, foremost, trained to be an excellent negotiator and a shrewd businessman, but so was Brian of the Kang Industries. If that wasn’t bad enough, they grew up together. They went to the same schools, ran the same circles, and would roll together for the rest of their foreseeable future. That’s just how it was never knowing who you could trust. Brian knew his most intimate details and could easily read his answers, but it went both ways. Brian didn’t know yet that Sungjin had sought out Astrid himself; the book’s discovery may have been accidental, but Sungjin’s intentions were deliberate.

Now he was about to extract relevant information his own kind thought it prudent to keep from him.

“Nine,” Sungjin answered. “Not since Dowoon’s 14th birthday party.”

“Was it? I don’t remember.”

Sungjin predicted that interested glint in Brian’s eyes and in the tilt of his head. Of note was the twitch of Brian’s nose, his tell when he was lying. Good. “Funny how memory works,” Sungjin said, “You remember singularities for the line they draw between Before and After.”

Brian reached forward for his iced americano and took a careful sip. “Doesn’t work the same when you’re not the principle players in the scenario.”

“Does it?”

Brian’s mouth went tight. “Works a little differently when you’re not the reason she never came back.”

Sungjin felt a vein pop somewhere in his neck. Until recently he never had to wonder how his life was impacted by Astrid’s absence, somehow he had always known exactly how the spaces she left behind had navigated his trajectory. Though he wondered if anyone else realized that it wasn’t just her who came out of that summer a changed person. Often he thought about how different their lives would be had that summer ended differently. Seems everyone knew how Astrid’s life had been like without him—the book and its origin story was her tell-all. Yet something had been amiss. There was a wariness and a weariness to her that gave him pause. That morning after, she was cagey. A woman running on empty. Frustrated. Vulnerable.

He did that.

Again.

Sungjin looked down at his iced mocha, fixated on a drop of condensation letting gravity run its course, then he turned to Brian. “It really does, doesn’t it?”

The corner of Brian’s lips curved into a smile. “And who’s fault is that again?”

Sungjin took a deep breath. “You know who’s fault it was.”

“Does Astrid?”

He could have just told Astrid the truth, point-blank, but at sixteen—and drunk at that—other body parts took precedence over his head. Even now, a fully-grown functioning adult he could have just told her the truth, but something had stopped him. It was the way she had looked at him, there had been heat in her eyes as she bit her bottom lip, but more importantly that same heat was clouded by anger. And it was her anger that reminded him of his as well.

While he had imagined dozens of variations on their reunion, the reality he was given still trumped even the most unlikely of his scenarios. Astrid apologising and him taking her home had been a recurring theme, but running through the paparazzi and her losing a shoe had not been in any of them. Neither was brunch with the whole guilty party.

Sungjin had hoped he could spend some more time alone with Astrid before all this, but when nothing went according to plan, the most he could do was adapt. _There are only alternate solutions_ , his grandfather had said to him, _when one door closes you find a window; else, you break down a wall._

“Is that was this is about?” Brian asked, “To tell her, or…”

Sungjin had to rethink his intentions. Following the incident, he had thought all Astrid needed was time before she came to her senses and walked back willingly into his life. Their lives. But the more she stayed away the angrier he got. That anger festered into bitterness and he had decided that if Astrid wasn’t going to come to him, then he wasn’t going to seek her out either. But then this book came out and Sungjin wanted a reckoning. He had found an outlet for his anger and frustration, the thousand worries beating at him like an endless torrent of rain. And now that he had her, he wanted more. He wanted to prove her wrong.

That much, at least, he was owed.

“Do you know what she said about me?” Sungjin challenged. “Do you know what she said about us?”

Brian’s shoulders stiffened. “That’s what all this is about?”

It didn’t take an expert diplomat to read Brian’s body language to know he didn’t approve of this. But Brian got away easy. So easy, he was lucky Sungjin wasn’t cutting them off from his life.

Sungjin scoffed. “How long did you think you could keep this from me before I’d find out?”

The answer had to wait when Jae arrived at the table wearing something absolutely atrocious Sungjin couldn’t find it in him to question where he got those jeans. Brian had always been an impeccable dresser, while Sungjin gravitated toward simple plains and the occasional plaid if he could get away with it. Jae always served to highlight that difference, but then Jae could get away with anything by virtue of being Jae H. Park. Unlike Sungjin and Brian, Jae had gone a completely different path and was now living the rich-hipster lifestyle. Exactly the free spirit only Jae could make a career out of.

An aside, they were cousins but no one would ever think it. Sungjin had been resigned to a life-long companionship with him by virtue of birth.

“So serious so early in the morning,” Jae said, pushing his round wire-frame glasses up his face as he sat to Sungjin’s left on the rectangular table. “You couldn’t schedule something in the PM instead? What?” Despite Jae’s eccentricity, he was good at reading the room. He was doing it now. “What are we talking about?”

Brian only needed the slightest flick of his brows and Jae was gaping in horror. “I need a strawberry milkshake,” Jae muttered, calling over a waitstaff and asking for one. “And a scone. With peaches.” After the server had gone, he turned to the table and said, “What’s the emergency?”

At that moment, Sungjin had the strangest urge to look ahead and over Brian’s shoulder. And there she was. Astrid walked into the deck looking put together in trousers and a silky button-down. It was her charcoal plaid jacket that got his attention—it was definitely too big for her, a man’s sport coat. Not just that. Something else. Astrid’s eyes darted around the room self-consciously. She tugged her jacket closer to her body as if that would protect her. As if whoever owned it would? Loosening his jaw and rolling his shoulders, he returned his attention to Jae and Brian, barely catching what they were saying.

“That,” Brian muttered, twisting in his seat and waving at Astrid. “That would be our emergency.”

“Astrid!” Jae stood from his seat, opening his arms wide and giving her a full hug. “Is that really you? I haven’t seen you in—“

“Quit it, Jae,” Sungjin cut in.

“Since last weekend when we had dinner,” Jae continued. He let her go and fell back into his seat. “At that restaurant that you like so much we go there every month.”

Brian stood as well to greet Ayeon and Astrid with the familiarity of years and none of the betrayal. Sungjin hadn’t even noticed Ayeon come in with Astrid; he nodded and Ayeon smiled in return. They were seated as follows: Ayeon next to Brian, and Astrid between Jae and Sungjin.

Of their group, Jae, Ayeon, and Astrid had always been the closest. Jae, because it was Jae’s aunt Astrid’s mother worked for, and Ayeon by association. In Sungjin’s memories, they were always laughing at something or the other, the three of them in their special circle just for them and no one else. They’d have these trips, just the three of them, or when they’d spend summers at the island they always had nights when no one else was allowed to sit with them. It was a picture of a halcyon youth, like a screenshot from a music video.

“Sungjin,” Astrid said, nodding to acknowledge him.

Then it was silent. A silence so loud they could wake the dead.

Brian and Ayeon eyed each other, willing the other to break the silence first—Ayeon turned to Brian with a tilt of her head, and Brian responded with shrug. Jae bounced his eyes across the table, following the quiet rally of tense looks and meaningful stares. All of them just waiting for someone to throw down first and get over this full-on back-alley fistfight done and over with.

After a beat, Brian called the attention of a waitstaff who promptly appeared at their side. “Can we at least order first? The salmon, yes? The one in the buttered thyme reduction. What else are you in the mood for? Lobster? Are we doing brunch or lunch? Let's vote lunch.”

Once the business of ordering for lunch was out of the way, Sungjin cleared his throat to bring them back to the figurative elephant in the room. And once more he was met with silence.

“What a reunion,” Jae said, clapping his hands. “Should we call Wonpil and Dowoon? Where are they? Is Wonpil still in Paris? Venice? I can’t remember.”

Silence, still.

“Oh, come on,” Ayeon finally said, “We are not kids anymore. We can have lunch and have a conversation. I, for one, intend to make this a habitual thing because we can’t not be in each other’s lives. It’s impractical, honestly.”

Again, silence.

“So when were you planning to tell me you all kept in contact all these years?” Sungjin asked, rounding the table with a stern look though none of them displayed any shadow of guilt. Growing up, they often teased him for being an old man in a teenager’s body. In retrospect, they weren’t wrong. Still, he was annoyed.

“To be fair,” Jae said, holding up his forefinger. “Wonpil and Dowoon are not involved in this. Is that why they’re not coming today? Because they weren't even there? Kind of?”

Brian's eyes go wide at the statement. _I've got you now_ , Sungjin thought.

But things still did not go his way.

The silence slowly dissipated throughout the meal, and soon Astrid was already in three separate conversations with the others at the table, happily laughing at something Jae said, eloquently debating Brian on something, and sharing secret giggles with Ayeon. Once again, Sungjin was an outsider.

Perhaps, he didn’t think this through.

“Oh, please,” Astrid said in response to something Jae said that Sungjin didn’t quite catch. “A donut is a donut, even if it is a week-old.”

“That’s disgusting,” Brian said, “It’s just disrespectful to the donut. They’re best when they’re still a little warm, the glaze still a little melty.”

“This is why you’re always so cranky,” Ayeon chided playfully, “Not only are you overworked, you’re also underfed. And by fed, I do mean a nice good meal on a nice plate. It wouldn’t hurt to have a guy on the other side of that meal too, if you know what I mean. Also, you’re not allowed to talk about work. Or even take a call!”

“Some of us have to work!” Astrid laughed, but Sungjin saw the lines strain around her eyes. “We can’t all be pretending to run our father’s companies.”

“See,” Jae said matter-of-factly, “I feel like I should be offended by that, but I’m really not.”

“That’s because you’re not running anything!” Brian spluttered. “You’ve made a lifestyle of music festivals, artsy parades, and whatever hipster stomping ground you can find. You’ve totally refused to hold a real job.”

“Why, thank you,” Jae shot back, “I am very proud of my achievements.”

Jae had absolutely no qualms about playing that role—the wild child, the artsy one, the one they had to check on from time to time just to make sure he hadn’t gotten himself into irreparable trouble. Though it was hard imagining just what kind of trouble he, and they, couldn’t get out of. It had always been Astrid who looked at them with disdain in her eyes when they went off making less than dignified decisions.

“That’s because you’re a lost cause,” Astrid said to Jae, leaning toward him affectionately.

Jae clutched at his heart. “And yet I remain your favourite lost cause.”

Throughout lunch, Sungjin noticed one more thing: Astrid wasn’t eating. She was just moving her food around, taking smaller and smaller bites as if she were forcing herself to ingest her meal. Once in a while, Jae would nudge her and she’d take a full bite.

“That’s three ER visits in the past two months,” Sunmi had said to him in one of her reports. “Looks like anxiety attacks, a lifestyle hazard.”

Ayeon eyed him from over the rim of her wineglass, a kind of look that just caught him with his hand halfway into the cookie jar. Her lips quirked into a smile and Sungjin glowered at her in return. In his mind, his grandfather was telling him off for his ungentlemanly behavior.

Lunch was long, lasting well into the mid-afternoon. Despite the tension that hung in the air, it was almost as if they were old friends catching up. Sungjin hasn’t seen Brian outside the confines of an office, and Ayeon only during the rare occasions he’d make an appearance at some charity or another. Jae was more of a meteorological phenomenon that he either missed entirely or waited out patiently to catch. In Sungjin’s case, it was never the latter. But the three of them had managed to stay together all these years. They've had brunches and dinners and none of the had mentioned Astrid to him at all.

When it was time to go, he lingered back waiting for Brian and Ayeon to leave together, then Jae to leave to wherever he went. Once they were alone at the table, he shifted closer to her, still half an arm’s length away but close enough he saw her shiver.

“Traitors, all of you,” he teased. “You always did like leaving me out of things.”

“I was wondering when you’d snap, you were so well-behaved at lunch.”

“I’m always well-behaved,” he said. And didn’t he regret not misbehaving. “Was that why you never let me sit with you when we were kids?”

Astrid turned to face him. “You were grumpy. And you didn’t like doing cartwheels with us.”

Ayeon and Astrid, doing cartwheels at the Polo Club. They had been even younger then, and he’d heard the other girls asking who she was and what she was doing there, mean girls making fun of Astrid for being Astrid. Then Ayeon walked up to her, took her hand, and later they were seen running around and doing cartwheels on the grass.

“That’s because you hit me with your shoe.”

A smile, faint and nostalgic. “My shoe flew off, okay.”

“That’s a recurring theme for you. So what is it, then. How is it that you’ve kept contact with them all these years?”

“My mother still works for Jae’s aunt,” she answered, pausing when a server arrived to clear their table. “But even still. And, really, I didn’t have a reason to not keep in touch with them. Ayeon is very persistent, and Jae needs someone to check on him from time to time and Auntie worries about him so. You poor little rich kids are so high maintenance.”

“And yet here you are, still playing with the rich kids.” The words had come out in a haze of anger. She’d said the words for him, not in relation to Jae. Astrid could be such a hypocrite. Years, and nothing’s changed. Not really.

It still hurt, the way she’d pigeon-holed him as a spoiled brat, rich-kid, self-entitled cliche. Especially when he had worked so hard not to be.

Astrid’s phone trilled in her pocket. She read the message preview then stood up. “Well, this was nice. I guess. I’m sure your assistant will call me so you don’t have to. I have to go now.”


	6. Chapter 6

When Astrid was twelve, she and Ayeon made a promise to tell each other all their secrets. All of them. No matter how embarrassing or how silly or how insignificant it might seem, they would tell each other everything. Forever and ever and for all of eternity. They pinky swore, crossed their hearts, and hoped to die. They were bound together for life.

By virtue of this, Astrid was morally obligated to tell Ayeon, “I do not miss my job at all but I feel naked without my headset and my tablet. Should I call my favorite soundman? He’s usually my date to these things.”

Ayeon had invited her as her plus one to Wonpil’s gallery opening. The gallery he owned. The art he commissioned. Just because he felt like it. Wonpil fancied himself a patron of the Arts, his life’s mission was to give Medici a run for his legacy. The space was industrial and open-plan with white walls and concrete floors, but it was the kind of hipster that was only attainable with wealth. Capital W, Wealth. Instead of a rundown warehouse, the building was new, designed and constructed with A Very Specific Vision. The dim of hundreds of casual conversation enveloped them. A live band played slow jazz from a stage off toward the side of the gallery. Cameras, here and there.

Around Astrid, women in their designer clothes and dripping with jewellery, flitted about, flaunting perfect figures in designer clothes. But Ayeon never needed the fancy jewellery. She grew up knowing exactly how to handle herself in these situations. Ayeon strode into a room with an innate elegance and poise—the kind that was brought about by a certain lifestyle and cannot taught or faked.

Ayeon picked up two flutes of pink bubbly from a passing server and handed one to Astrid. “You owe Brian a ten for talking about work. And not even five minutes into the thing. You couldn’t have waited another fifteen minutes and let me win instead?”

“Tell your boyfriend his has tens with more zeroes than I will ever see in this lifetime and the next, so he should stop taking all my money over these silly wagers of yours.”

Ayeon ticked a finger as she spoke. “One, he’s not my boyfriend. Two, we’re doing this for your own good. Three, if you don’t want to give Brian your money, stop talking about work.”

“I won’t tell him if you won’t.”

“Buy me a popsicle and my lips are sealed.”

That was what she loved about Ayeon and Brian. Even when they had been younger, they never made it about the _money_. Along with Jae, they never made her feel… _less_. Given that Jae was weird in his own unique way, Astrid never felt like the attention was ever on her for not truly belonging in this world. But they were looking at her now. And for entirely different reasons.

She’d spent years relying on Jae and Ayeon. Even now as she felt as the one who had taken moral responsibility over them, it was her friends who’d kept her afloat.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted Jae and Brian coming in together. Hard not to spot Jae when wore this teal and coral tropical inspired blazer over his usual ripped jeans. Next to him, Brian came in a sleek navy suit, turning heads and invoking hushed whispers around him. They were a work of art on their own. A study in contrasts. Two things that shouldn’t work together, but were harmonious nonetheless. At least they were now. Astrid distinctly remembered screaming fits in their childhood.

“Hi,” Astrid said to them, raising her champagne.

“How magnanimous of me to grace you with my presence, you mean?” Jae answered, tossing his head in that carefree way only he could pull off without looking like a total fool.

“Sure,” Astrid answered, stifling a laugh. “That.”

Jae sighed dramatically, clutching his chest. “I take it we’re supposed to make conversation while these two make eyes at each other?”

He was referring to Ayeon and Brian who, while not quite making eyes at each other, have indeed brightened up at the sight of the other. Inside, Astrid couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy. Grudgingly, she wondered. When was the last time someone had looked at her as though she brought the light upon the Earth?

“Who’s making eyes at each other?” Brian shot back, grinning and baring his teeth in that annoying way he does. “Has anyone seen Wonpil yet? Aren’t we supposed to congratulate him or something?”

Ayeon nodded. “He’s probably with Dowoon around here somewhere. I know he likes being fashionably late, especially to his own events, but he should at least be here for the best part of it.”

Astrid let her gaze wander around the open space in search of either Wonpil or Dowoon. Of their group of friends, they had been the least she had interacted with if only because they had been younger and there had not been much opportunity for them to get as close as she was with these other three. They’d been civil through the years, and any time Ayeon would invite her to their getaways, they’d been genuinely friendly. Astrid looked forward to seeing them tonight.

“I’ll go find him,” Ayeon said, volunteering though nobody asked.

Almost immediately, Brian said, “I’ll go with you.”

Astrid exchanged knowing glances with Jae, but both of them said nothing as the other pair slipped away into the crowd and disappeared further into the gallery. Astrid simply shook her head and laughed into her champagne.

“I keep wondering when that happened,” Jae mused out loud, “but then the real question is why do they keep pretending when they’ve been doing that since we were kids.”

“Let them have their fun,” Astrid answered softly. “It’s cute. They’re cute.”

Jae shrugged in response. “Yeah, but they’re also proper adults.”

“Says the proper adult,” she laughed.

Her gaze was caught on a large painting taking up one of the walls near the back of the gallery. She was mesmerised by it, the tortuous lines of silver metal and mixed media twisted and bound together to form the image of a man rising from the sea in a wave reaching for a woman on the shore. And she wasn’t the only one. Someone else stood before the installation, equally transfixed.

It was Sungjin.

She would recognize his profile anywhere immediately. Not just any Sungjin. No, the universe was not that kind to her. Of course there was no reason to give her a Sungjin that looked as though he’d been dragged across the city streets to make an appearance. What she got instead, was this. Sungjin in a tailored black suit and a black Oxford shirt. No tie, she was certain of it.

Damn.

It was difficult enough as it was, pretending he didn’t affect her in more ways than one. She didn’t need her body reacting to him like he was something—someone—she needed for sustenance. Here was the boy who had broken her heart. Astrid already felt like jumping out of her own skin every time he was around.

However, it was time to play nice. Ayeon did not bring her here simply to enjoy the art and the culture, though wasn’t that why Astrid had a complicated relationship with them in the first place? She’d wanted so many things, experience all the world had to offer, and the only way she had was to stay connected to the very people who took everything that was spoon-fed to them for granted.

“What’s he doing here?” Jae asked, seeing what she was seeing. “Wonpil said he never replied to any of his messages.”

“Does he ever respond to anyone’s messages?”

Jae pursed his lips. “Maybe you should go find out what’s up with him?”

Astrid mentally rolled her eyes, but she knew having to deal with Sungjin was inevitable. In this crowd, she would only trigger the kind of talk she hoped to avoid in the first place. The only choice she had to make it appear as though everything was copacetic. She didn’t need to give Sungjin any more reason to ruin her life.

Her approach was wary, walking to stand an arm’s length from him. “Sungjin.”

“Astrid.”

She was right about the tie, and she didn’t know how to feel about that. That, and the undone buttons on his decadent shirt. She hoped her voice was steady. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

“Wonpil wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“Sounds like him.”

He raised a brow. “I’m surprised you’re here.”

“Ayeon needed a date that wasn’t Brian,” she answered, for a moment forgetting they they resented each other. “You’d think they’d drop the pretence by now.”

“Let them have their fun.”

His echoing her own words, so softly and so fondly, did something to her chest that sent unwanted flutters up to her head. Clearly, she’s already had too much to drink. And on an empty stomach? It was a disaster in the making. She stared at the installation instead, hoping it would rewire her brain back to common sense.

“It’s Poseidon and Amphitrite,” she whispered, finally recognising the subject. She cast a sidelong glance at Sungjin, curious of his interest. Curious if he remembered their trip around Europe, the one where all the difference between them had been laid in full. The flutters were gone, replaced by a void. This is not the first time she felt this way. She knew the feeling well, the dull ache of longing. She wished she didn’t care so much for these things, the art, the culture, the travel. It reminded her of how much she wanted. Of how much _wanting_ hurt.

“Tell me,” he said, inclining his head toward her just the slightest. “About them.”

“He was the god of the sea,” she explained, angry at herself at being unable to resist. Angry that he knew she wouldn’t be able to stop herself. Angry that he knew she would know all there is to know. “And she was…” Amphitrite was nobody, she wanted to say. “A sea nymph. Then they lived happily ever after.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips. “Nothing happy ever after about this, though.”

The art was violent, almost painful to look at. There was a yearning in Poseidon’s eyes that drew the viewer’s focus, a palpable feeling that made one uncomfortable.

“No.” Astrid shook her head. “At least not in this scene.”

“The one where she runs from him.”

Astrid swallowed the lump in her throat. “Perhaps there was a reason for that. After all, she was but a sea nymph. And he, a god.”

“Isn’t love supposed to conquer all?”

She scoffed. “You wouldn’t know what love is even as it hits you between the eyes.”

“I take it, that’s not what I missed out on either?” He was mocking her. To her face.

The stakes were too high. Astrid couldn’t bear to be at the receiving end of his cruelty, and worse his rejection. Something wild and reckless took over. “Of course, not. You missed out on only what could have been the greatest pleasure of your life.”

If those were to be her last words, it would have been worth it. The expression on Sungjin’s face went from placid boredom to controlled shock, and now wicked amusement.

“Pleasure,” he drawled. “I missed out on the greatest pleasure only you could provide?”

Astrid couldn’t back down now. She would worry about him calling her on her bluff when it came to it. “Passion is key.” She feigned nonchalance. “You missed out when you decided to tell everybody you’ve already had me instead of actually having me.”

The memory still stung. It was Dowoon’s birthday party and Astrid decided it was the night she was going to get her very first kiss. It felt long overdue at seventeen, and she couldn’t hardly wait. It was dark inside the sprawling villa, but as soon as her eyes had adjusted to the soft lighting, she saw him almost immediately. She’d be able to spot him anywhere, even in a crowd this big, in a place this dark and loud.

His gaze made a slow journey up her body, lingering on the open buttons of her shirt and her collar bones. For a moment, she almost believed he could undo more of her buttons with his eyes alone. Her heart raced. Suddenly her skirt felt too tight. He didn’t even have to touch her, and her breath quickened. He didn’t even have to say a word, just a sweep of those intent eyes and she was falling apart.

All this unwanted wanting was driving her to the edge of her control.

“This is what it’s really about, isn’t it? You’re just upset you didn’t get your chance with…who was it? Wooyoung?”

Astrid grit her teeth. “You mean before or after you ruined the night and embarrassed me in front of all those people?”

Sungjin had crossed her vision in the midst of all the people dancing and the loud music assaulting her ears. She’d been on her way to the gazebo, the one with the shells and the coloured glass hanging down from hemp rope, and with the one old-fashioned lantern lighting up the intimate space. It had been the perfect spot. But Astrid never got to the gazebo. She never even managed to leave the villa.

Sungjin’s eyes contemplated the figure of Amphitrite, half turned away from Poseidon, fear and distress in the sea nymph’s eyes. “I suppose that is what I did.”

“You made them all believe that we…that _I_ was your summer cherry? Now why would that upset me. Why do you think?”

Sungjin did not answer.

“But of course, that was nothing to you,” Astrid continued, riding the slow and steady path of anger rising within her. “You never had to care about the consequences of your actions. You never had to worry about who you hurt or who you stepped on. The world bends itself around you, and it doesn’t matter one bit that anyone feels ill-treated by you. You just don’t care.”

“If it’s any comfort—“

“It’s not any comfort at all,” she cooly cut in. “Your explanations or justifications will not be enough. Don’t even try to spin this story to sympathise with you. It’s too late. I’m only here because I have no choice. You’ve already humiliated me once. I won’t let you destroy me again. So let’s just get this over with and do what we have to do.”

Sungjin turned to her slowly, eyes unreadable as he regarded her. “Very well, then.”

Astrid hated his silence. Hated the way she was forced to fill in the spaces he refused to acknowledge. Her quiet fury only built. After that night, she had distanced herself from him. Ayeon and Jae were difficult to avoid and they had done nothing wrong to her. But her friends had been a constant reminder that Sungjin existed. That the pain she’d felt that night was real and not at all imagined.

She met his eyes. Whatever she had felt when she was younger, she knew it never went away. The feeling was always there. _He_ was always there.

His gaze dropped to her lips. There was a part of her that clicked in place at the sight of it. Somewhere behind her breastbone and somewhere behind her bellybutton.

Astrid took a step back. Turned away from him and his eyes. Her strides were steady in a way she did not feel inside. Somewhere along the way, she put down her glass and found another one to drink. Ayeon and Brian were nowhere to be found. Wonpil she did see, with Dowoon and later with Sungjin. Now that her moral obligations were done, she had nothing left to do. Nowhere else to be. The night didn’t last long for her, and without saying goodbye to anyone, she called a cab and headed straight home.

_What the hell just happened?_


End file.
